Ingenious
by Frank Suazte
Summary: The ultimate clash between our beloved detective and the black organization. This's where the story ends. This's where it all ends. A letter must be decoded, a life must be saved. Decisions must be made. R
1. Prologue

Okay, so this idea hit me, last year, but couldn't write it, due to several reasons . , but again, here I'm trying hopefully to write something good. Hopefully you guys will like this story. I spent almost half a year writing that. Show some love and review.

**Disclaimer: I do not own detective Conan case closed. **

**Prologue. **

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UK/Science museum .  
12:02 Am  
Renowned curator Mathew Huxley staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand hall. He lunged for the nearest painting he could see, a Caravaggio. Grabbing the gilded frame, the seventy-three-year-old man heaved the masterpiece toward himself until it tore from the wall and Huxley's collapsed backward in a heap beneath the canvas.  
As he anticipated, a thundering iron gate fell nearby, barricading the entrance to the suite. The parquet floor shook. Far off, an alarm began to ring.  
The curator lay a moment, gasping for breath, taking stock.  
' I am still alive.'  
He crawled out from under the canvas and scanned the cavernous space for someplace to hide.  
When suddenly..A voice spoke, chillingly close.  
"Do not move."  
On his hands and knees, the curator froze, turning his head slowly.  
Only fifteen feet away, outside the sealed gate, the mountainous silhouette of his attacker stared through the iron bars. He was broad and tall, with ghost-pale skin and thinning blonde hair. His irises were pink with dark red pupils. The man drew a pistol from his coat and aimed the long silencer through the bars, directly at the curator.  
"You should not have run." His accent was not easy to place. English wasn't his native language. Huxley can easily notice that.  
"Now tell me where she is?"  
"I told you already,"  
the curator stammered, kneeling defenseless on the floor of the gallery.  
"I have no idea what you are talking about!"

"You are lying."  
The man stared at him, perfectly immobile except for the glint in his ghostly eyes. "we know she was contacting you for a long time now, but we decided to wait until for the right moment." he paused for a second.  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
"Shut up. We know everything about you and sherry."  
The man said  
The curator felt a surge of adrenalin.  
'How could he possibly know this?'

"Tonight the rightful guardians will be restored. Tell me where she is and you will live."  
The man leveled his gun at the curator's head.

Huxley could not breathe.  
The man tilted his head and closed one eye, peering down the barrel of his gun.  
Huxley held up his hands in defense. "Wait," he said slowly.  
"I will tell you what you need to know."  
The curator spoke his next words carefully.  
"I haven't received anything from her or heard her for 3 years, But last time she contacted me she said that Akemi was shot by anonymous.. She was in japan then"

He paused. He lied  
"Yes, I killed her"  
The man said was absolutely no sense of guilt was in his voice.

Sick.

"Liar" The man said  
"We was informed by our spy that she contacted you last week"  
"does she worth to be died for?"  
He asked.

"I don't know anything about her, but she's in japan at the meantime and she's not going to leave soon"  
"please, don't.. Don't kill me"  
Huxley said pegging The man.

"sorry.."

Instinctively, he tried to scramble for cover.  
But it was late.  
The silencer spat, and the Huxley felt a searing heat as the bullet lodged in his stomach. He fell forward…struggling against the pain. Slowly, Huxley rolled over and stared back through the bars at his attacker.  
'Gin.. Exactly like what she said about him'  
The man was now taking dead aim at Huxley's head.  
Huxley closed his eyes, his thoughts a swirling tempest of fear and regret.

BUT

The click of an empty chamber echoed through the corridor.  
Huxley's eyes flew open.  
The man glanced down at his weapon, looking almost amused. He reached for a second clip, but then seemed to reconsider, smirking calmly at Huxley's gut. "My work here is done."  
The curator looked down and saw the bullet hole in his white linen shirt. It was framed by a small circle of blood a few inches below his breastbone.  
… My stomach.  
Almost cruelly, the bullet had missed his heart. As a veteran of La Guerre d'Algérie, the curator had witnessed this horribly drawn out death before. For fifteen minutes, he would survive as his stomach acids seeped into his chest cavity, slowly poisoning him from within.  
"Pain is good, professor," the man said.  
Then he was gone.

Alone now, Mathew Huxley turned his gaze again to the iron gate. He was trapped, and the doors could not be reopened for at least twenty minutes. By the time anyone got to him, he would be dead. Even so, the fear that now gripped him was a fear far greater than that of his own death.  
'I must protect her, till my last breath'

Staggering to his feet, he remembered how he used to play with her and her sister Akemi, he was a family friend and the only one after all.  
An unbroken chain of knowledge.

Shivering, he pulled himself to his feet.

'I must find some way…'

he reached for his office, opened the door..  
Wincing in pain, he summoned all of his faculties and strength. The desperate task before him, he knew, would require every remaining second of his life.  
He grabbed a pen, a piece of paper was on his desk, and start writing.

End of the prologue.

Pretty confusing, huh? Just keep reading D:

READ AND REVIEW.


	2. the recording room

Sorry for the long absence :D thanks for whoever reviewed. :) this story is original, i just borrowed the prologue of " **Da vinci code" **By Dan brown. but the plot is mine. :)  
anyway, i will leave you with chapter 1. i hope you guys like it. :) show some love and review.

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DETECTIVE CONAN CASE CLOSED.**

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**Chapter 1  
In the recording room.**

The sound of footsteps echoed the hall. People started to come of their rooms, which was like nests, small, yet can fit up to 4 persons. The doors are open always.. you get to hear " go deliver those papers to the editors section" or something like " we will be on air in 30 seconds, hurry up" , a lot. Work never stops here. The sound of those familiar footsteps began to fade a little which points out that whoever was walking decided to stop for awhile maybe, to take a rest, if you observed the sound earlier.. you will notice that there're 2 seconds between every footstep, which already points out another thing.  
whoever is walking, is an old person, maybe in their late fifties.  
a long sigh echoed the hall once again… that mysterious guy finally decided to seat on the bench just in front of that familiar red door, which had a big red panel right above it, says " Recording."  
People started coming of their rooms you can easily know why? They all looking at the same thing, yeah you guessed right, they all gazed at the person sitting on that bench.. you can easily hear their random guess' about that person, something like " who is this guy? Another troll looking for fame?" and this lady was telling her colleague "Yeah, the guys from the security says that he is him" and another one " but how can that be possible? He is dead!"  
It seems like the guy became aware of those random talks around him, why? There's a smile took its way on his face, oh did I forget to mention? He is guy.. a very familiar guy.  
but you can really be sure.. that, that man wasn't really aware of another talk was going on.. a talk behind the door. In the recording room. Wait let's take a quick look of what's going on behind the door.  
oh, you can see a man, a handsome man, in a suite.. and there's an ID hanged from his neck.. it says.. "**Akihito Masami" **and beneath it, it says " **interviewe**r" clearly he was talking with another guy, I think his name was " **Kemito" **and beneath it, it says " **director**."  
If you give an ear of what they are saying, you will know they are talking about the man sitting outside.  
" kemito, are you sure of this? We don't know if that man was a troll or not! We have to investigate him first, we don't know if he is the real one or not. The last I heard about that guy, that he was dead, 30 years ago.. Now he decided to come alive after this time? And for what?"  
" Akihito, look, all I know is, it is a risk, we have to take. That man chose us for a reason. And his way on the phone with me, says that he is an honest guy, I don't believe him though,, but if this thing was true. We can say " hello, world of fame" all we can do now, is to give it a try and hope for the best"  
" and it can bring us down, we struggled to reach that level we are in now.. we just can't risk to lose everything.."  
" just give it a try, it will be interesting.. after all this is a recording.. it is not on air.. we can record what this man going to say, but we can choose not to put it on air"  
" fine, kemito I will do it for your own sake this time, but if I feel I am interviewing a troll.. I am out of here."  
" deal!"  
the door was opened, Akihito came out of the room walking towards our guy, nervously.

" please, come with me, we are going to record within 5 minutes. But before that, can I ask you a question?"  
the old man, pointed his face up, to the man's eyes. He was about to say something. His lips started to move.  
" you don't have to. I will answer everything you want in that room behind you, but if I don't know better, I will answer you're unasked question. Yes, I am Kudo shinichi, and I am still alive.


End file.
